


Keep Coming Up With Love

by embroiderama



Series: That Burns a Building Down [2]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Long-Distance Relationship, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 17:06:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2158515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embroiderama/pseuds/embroiderama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Neal suffered through his time with Kramer in DC, Peter struggled to live with his absence and worked to bring him home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Coming Up With Love

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion to [That Burns a Building Down](http://archiveofourown.org/works/883373), Peter’s POV on several parts of the story. I don’t think this will make much sense without reading the main story first. This was originally written as a timestamp for [](http://sinfulslasher.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://sinfulslasher.livejournal.com/)**sinfulslasher** , but I added another section. The title is from Queen's "Under Pressure," again.

Shaking his head, sending Neal that signal to leave town, had been one of the most difficult things Peter ever did, and yet it had been an easy decision. He didn’t want Neal to leave, and he didn’t want to throw away his career, but he was willing to sacrifice everything in order to keep Neal safe from Kramer’s plans. He hadn’t considered that Neal would be willing to sacrifice his freedom to maintain his relationship with Peter and El, and later—after he watched Kramer pack Neal into his car and drive away—Peter was ashamed of himself for ever doubting, for imagining that Neal loved less than he did.

He went straight to El’s office, and when she saw his face she didn’t say a word. She led him back into her private workspace and closed the door then reached up and put her hand on the side of his face. Peter leaned his head into the soft, cool touch, feeling like a man with a fever.

“Hon? What is it?”

“Neal’s gone. Kramer took him to DC.”

El pulled her hand away to cover her own face then took a deep breath and shook her head. “It’s only a few hours away; we can see him. And it won’t be forever. It can’t be.”

Peter wanted to agree, but he had a sick feeling that Kramer wasn’t going to let it be that easy. He closed his eyes and thought about the last time Neal had shared their bed. Sweaty and spent, Neal had slept between them then stayed for a lazy Sunday at the house, and Peter had imagined it a preview of how their life would be when Neal’s sentence was over. He didn’t know what to say so he just pulled El into his arms and breathed in the familiar scent of her hair.

In the days that followed, he was unhappy but not surprised to find that Kramer was indeed doing his best to cut Neal off from them. Peter wanted to file a complaint, but he was in no position to call in favors and he couldn’t even point to any regulation that Kramer was breaking. With Diana’s help, Peter opened a line of communication to Neal, tenuous and slow though it might be, and he kept an eye out for anything that would give him leverage to get Neal away from Kramer. Even finding some kind of infraction that would force Kramer to loosen his grip on Neal would be a victory, but Peter found nothing.

Neal’s absence was a ragged wound that wouldn’t heal, and even as he and El clung to each other and tried to live their lives that wound ached every day. Every night.

~~~

Peter got to the office early, and as soon as he saw Clinton Jones walk through the main doors he gestured for the agent to join him upstairs.

Before Peter could even ask, Clinton held up his hands and said, “Yes, I saw Neal.”

Peter wished that his concerns weren’t quite so obvious, but clearly they were. “How was he?”

Jones sighed. “He said to tell you that he was doing fine, but I’m not so sure. He looked okay, had on one of those suits of his, but he wasn’t quite the Caffrey I remember.”

“What do you mean?”

“Straight up? I think he’s depressed. You know how he usually seems so alive? More alive than the rest of us?”

 _It’s part of what makes us love him so much_ , Peter thought, but he just nodded. “Right.”

“Well, he wasn’t like that yesterday. I tried to get him to meet up with me for a drink after the meeting, but he said that wouldn’t work for Kramer. From what I could see, I think his radius is non-existent.”

“That’s probably about right.” Peter sighed. It hurt, physically, to think of Neal with his light dimmed that way. Goddamn Kramer. “Thanks for checking on Neal for me.”

“Not a problem. For what it’s worth, I hope you can get him back here.”

“Me, too. Thanks again.”

Clinton nodded and left Peter’s office. Peter sat and turned his chair toward the window as he contemplated Neal’s situation. He would wait until evening to talk to El about what Clinton had said, but he needed to get a note to Neal as soon as possible. If Neal was coming across as depressed, then something was clearly very, very wrong.

~~~

The next time Peter was able to have an agent check up on Neal, the news was better. The agent, who had worked with them briefly in the New York White Collar office, said that Neal seemed more or less like his usual self, if less friendly than she remembered. Then, through Diana’s friend in Kramer’s office, Peter heard that Neal fell and hurt himself. It didn’t sound like anything dire, but Peter ached to think that there was nobody there to really care for Neal. Kramer would make sure his basic medical needs were met, Peter didn’t doubt that. But nobody would hold Neal’s hand when he was in pain, and nobody would help him get comfortable at night. Nobody would bring him tea if the painkillers made him queasy, and Neal wouldn’t ask anybody for any of those things.

When he heard that Kramer was throwing Neal in lock-up for Christmas, Peter couldn’t even stay in the office. He went home and paced the floor until El got there, and it was only after she had talked him out of going up there and trying to take Neal out of there himself that she broke down, overwhelmed by the fact that Neal was hurt and hurting and locked so far away from them. All Peter could do was hold on to her and try to convince them both that they would get Neal back. Eventually.

The next day he approached June about the situation, and she offered to go visit Neal before Peter even asked. When they met up again a few days later, June’s words were straightforward but not encouraging.

“I’d never seen Neal like that. He was so nervous that something would happen to me from going to visit him, and he misses you and Elizabeth terribly.”

Peter closed his eyes and repressed a heavy sigh. “We miss him as well.”

“I told him as much.” June looked at him over the rim of her coffee cup. “You need to bring him home, Peter.”

“I’m trying, but I’m not making much headway.”

“I hope you can make some progress soon because he’s not in a good place, and I’m not referring to the federal lock-up. He doesn’t look well.”

“What do you mean?”

“He looked a bit thin, even for Neal, and he doesn’t look like he’s been sleeping well.”

“Damn it.” Peter clenched his jaw so hard that it ached. As much as he wanted to help Neal, he hadn’t heard anything that could justify calling for an urgent review of his situation with Kramer. “Thank you, June.”

“Just bring him home.”

“I will. I don’t know how long it’ll take, but I will.”

~~~

Peter’s worry about Neal’s situation decreased slightly when he heard about the Van Gogh case. He didn’t think Kramer would be dumb enough to not use Neal’s talents to work on the case, and Neal was often happiest when he had something he could make, some kind of beautiful thing he could recreate with his hands. He imagined Neal in an undershirt and khakis, focused so intently on the painting that he wouldn’t even notice Peter watching him. Maybe that focus would help him escape his depressing reality, even if only briefly.

On the other hand, while Neal was involved in such a high-profile case, Peter had no chance of prying him from Kramer’s grip. They were getting closer to the one-year anniversary of Neal’s departure for DC, and Peter held out hope that once the Van Gogh case was concluded—successfully, he assumed—that somebody above Kramer would decide that one year was a good time to put a stop to Neal’s assignment to DC. In other good news, Reese Hughes had returned to the division, and Peter hoped that once Hughes had settled back into his role that he’d be willing to leverage some of his influence to get Neal back to New York. None of it was at all certain, but those uncertainties were all Peter had to cling to, and they were the only hope he could offer to El.

~~~

Peter was walking back to his office from the men’s room when he heard Diana call out to him. “Boss!” Her voice was strident, alarmed, and before she said a word Peter knew it was something about Neal. He took the phone from her hand and felt the room tilt around him as he listened to a woman he didn’t know tell him that Neal had collapsed in the office, that he’d had some kind of seizure and paramedics were on their way.

He didn’t remember giving the phone back to Diana, and he didn’t remember going up the stairs to his office, but he thought he must have because he found himself on the way to the parking deck with his coat on and keys in hand. He got out of Manhattan and onto the turnpike and then 95 south as quickly as possible, and as he drove he made phone calls—to Agent Franz for updates on where Neal had been taken, to Elizabeth so that she could take Satchmo to the sitter and then get on a train down to DC, to Hughes to beg the man to intervene on Neal’s behalf.

Peter reined in his temper, put the car in cruise control to keep from inadvertently gunning it in anger, and called Kramer. Phil Kramer was a power-hungry asshole, and Peter would rather spit in his face than have a pleasant conversation with him. Unfortunately, Phil Kramer was also the person who currently had access to Neal and to Neal’s doctors. On the phone, Kramer was surprisingly deferential as he described what he knew of Neal’s condition, and that was terrifying—almost more than the news of how very ill Neal seemed to be.

When Peter reached the hospital, Kramer was waiting for him. Neal was in a room in the critical care unit, unconscious after a procedure to treat a bleeding ulcer, and once Kramer had given him access to the room Peter asked the man to leave.

“I’m worried about the boy too, Petey.”

Peter backed Kramer into the wall and spoke as quietly as he possibly could. “You are responsible for what happened to that man. If he doesn’t come through this, I will make sure you go down for it. I will make sure you regret ever laying eyes on Neal Caffrey.”

“No, don’t—“

“No. You nearly killed him. I know you didn’t mean to do it, but he’s a goddamn human being. All you cared about was using him so acting like you care now is nothing more than a joke. And it’s not funny. In any case, you can’t use him right now so it would be best if you left him alone.”

Kramer squared his jaw, but Peter held his gaze and channeled all of his rage into his glare. Kramer was the first to look away. “I’ll go,” he said. “I hope Neal’s feeling better soon. I mean that.”

“I’m sure you do.” Peter stepped back to let Kramer pass, and after shadowing Kramer to the elevators he went back and slipped into Neal’s room. Peter wasn’t sure what Neal had looked like that morning or in the days before, but in the hospital bed he looked unquestionably sick. He was far too thin with dark hollows under his eyes, his skin paler than any lack of sunlight could account for. He had a text from El that she had just boarded the train at Penn Station, and he let her know that he was in the room with Neal.

After that, Peter sat with his hand on Neal’s arm, grateful for the connection after so much time apart. When Neal woke, in pain and radiating fear, Peter took him in his arms and held him as close as he dared. Neal trembled against him, his whole body frighteningly weak, but he was alive. He would get better, he would come home, and he would be loved. Peter knew those things without a doubt, and for the moment they were all he really needed to know.


End file.
